John Callahan - The Blood Moon

o crops, and raising livestock. He was in his mid-thirties, but those who knew him would say he seemed older-not because of any part

inated only by the light of the moon and the soft glow of the stars. John had inherited the land from his father, who had inherited it from his father before him. I

looked-though she was beautiful-but in the way she moved through the world. Her laughter was the music that filled their home, her touch the comfort

pitting image of John, with the same unruly dark hair and piercing blue eyes, but there was something of Mary in him too-a softness, a gentleness that

ork of green and gold, dotted with the occasional red barn or whitewashed fence. The crops were healthy and abundant, the animals well-fed a

ll on his worn boots and head out to the barn, where the animals were waiting to be fed. The cows would low softly in greeting,

ard. There was no deception in the earth, no lies in the way a seed sprouted and grew. It was something he could

use, where Mary would have breakfast waiting-eggs fresh from the coop, bacon sizzling in the pan, and bread still warm from the oven. They would sit together at t

n for John, a place where he could let go of the worries of the world and simply be. For Daniel, it was a place of adventure, where he could skip rocks across the water or fish

verbank. They would eat together, laugh together, and when the day began to wane, they would ma

son, a thriving farm. He had no reason to believe that anything could ever threaten the peace

at echoed through the trees at night. Some said it was just the wind, others claimed it was wolves, but there were those who spoke in hushed tones

always been a place of mystery, a place where the wild things lived, but it had never been a threat to him or his family. He had hu

, the air heavier, as if the very land was holding its breath. And sometimes, just before dawn, John thought he heard something in the distance-something t

It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, his face obscured by the shadows of the trees. For a moment, John thought it might be

his voice steady, though his hear

his eyes locked on John. There was something in those eye

nded, taking a step forw

he turned and disappeared into the forest, the trees

racing. Who was he? What was he doing on John's land? And why ha

e house, Mary was standing on the p

e asked, her voice

haking his head. "Just some str

That man hadn't been lost. He had been there for a reason,

pt thinking about the man in the forest, about those eyes, and the way they had seemed to see right through him. He

ut a fishing trip they had planned for the day. John forced himself to push the thoughts of the previous night aside, to focus on his so

by the familiar rhythm of life on the farm. There were animals to feed, crops to

ohn found himself glancing towards the forest more often than usual, his eyes searching the tree line for a

new she could sense his unease, could feel the tension in the air, but she didn't say anything. She k

er on the porch, watching the st

ything to those stories?

r brow furrowing in co

id, hating how ridiculous the words

eyes searching his face. "You don'

t night, at the edge of the forest. He was watching the farm, and the

"It was probably just a traveler, John. There are all kinds of peop

his stomach didn't loosen.

ohn couldn't help but feel that something was coming, something that would shatter the peace they had worked so hard

John knew, it woul